


Voltron: Legendary Dancers

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Male Strippers, Other, You filthy sinners, what more do you need here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7474953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro and the gang are male dancers working at The Lion, run by Allura and her friend/assistant Coran. Prompt ideas are welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's 3 AM and my friend told me to.
> 
> For the sake of my sanity and continuity, Pidge is referred to with male pronouns. All characters except Pidge are 18 or over. Pidge is 16. 
> 
> No, there is no smut. Don't ever expect it to happen. It won't.

It wasn't the most respectable business, nor the most reputable job title. 

But damn if it didn't make them rich.

All of them got into the industry from different paths, with different stories and different circumstances. Somehow they all ended up at The Lion, their lives coming together to form what may be the most unusual group of misfits to ever hang out together. 

Don't let their eyes and bodies fool you - they're not interested, at all, in the customers and clients they end up with. This is a professional space. No sketchy deals, no secrets in back rooms, no under-table trades. It's a business. A job. At the end of the day, they paid the bills, took care of each other, and lived their own lives. 

So what if they danced for a living? It made the money, and besides, it was certainly better than a desk job. 

Each of them served a different 'category' the ladies liked, even the more obscure ones. Never completely stripping, never giving away too much but teasing enough to get them riled up, they all played their assets easily and skillfully, like the angels - or devils - they pretended to be. Naughty, they could pull off. Sultry, wild or affectionate, they could do it all. Maybe that's why they were the most popular male dance club in the state. Maybe that's why the ladies would try to get their numbers. Maybe that's why they had "regulars" and "fans." All in all, the Paladins certainly knew how to play a girl's heart - and perform on stage. 

Allura inherited the business from her father, who originally used it as a bar. When he passed away from dementia, she was left with his bar and club, completely clueless about how to run a business, and without the slightest clue why the bar was such a huge hit to women. She didn't like the idea of men dressing scantily and taking orders while ladies stared and oogled over them. Allura, unable to handle the work load and desperate to keep things afloat, turned to her father's closest friend, Coran. 

Without Coran, the bar never would have survived. It never would have taken off in fame if he hadn't decided to do a one-man strip show one Saturday night to boost the bar's reputation and - intentionally, as he tried to say - end up in the news. And maybe that's why the bar and club was converted to a dance club in the first place - because much to Allura's surprise, people wanted the dances to continue. 

Stunned, she gave it a shot. And so The Lion bloomed as the hot spot for ladies in need of a good show. Men could enter at an additional fee. Food and drinks were still an option, but hardly anyone came for that. A website was made, a small independent film was made about its history, and auditions were put up. Within a week, the roles were filled. The Lion was in full swing. On Thursday nights, amateurs could try their luck in a stripping competition. Whoever got the ladies cheering loudest was offered a job. 

The first successful audition, after a score of bad ones, was Lance. His dancing was superb, even enchanting. His self-confidence flaunted talent and fit his role as the unashamed dancer he wanted to be. Much to Coran's enthusiasm, Lance was hired on the spot. 

The second was on a whim. Keith had dropped out of college and needed a job to make up for it. He'd lost his scholarship and with it, his only ticket to getting a 'real job.' At first he was awkward, moving mechanically, with a plain dead expression. Not alluring in any sense. But after Coran suggested Keith employ his fighting lessons (which he'd added to his application under 'skills') as a possible method to get into the swing of the music, his fiery and wild movements and hips had Lance envious. A couple improving auditions and one competition with Lance later, he was hired on board.

Hunk wanted to be the cook. He wasn't invested in dancing, unless his favorite song came on. When a couple girls complained of not seeing any 'huskier' men on stage, Allura ushered him into the largest outfit they had - a firefighter's overalls - and pushed him onto a small side stage to see how others would take to him. The poor man was embarrassed at first, but he could read the crowd like reading a book. His affectionate and loving facade had many ladies flocking to him. Apparently, soothing and pampering a woman in compliments and sweet soft talk got them all aflutter. (And Allura learned that people had more tastes than just thin, lean-muscled young men.)

Pidge tried out as a younger male dancer. When Allura put together halfway through his audition that he was far too young to perform, Pidge confessed he was trying to make money to pursue the search for his missing family members, who he believed had been kidnapped. The police had closed the case a year before, saying no evidence was found, but when Pidge investigated - rather illegally - through the police database and found evidence HAD been found, and that the trail wasn't as cold as they said, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Allura decided to employ Pidge as the kitchen assistant, cleaner, schedule arranger, and backup DJ. This gave Pidge more than enough opportunity for payment that he wanted.

The fifth member nobody saw coming. Shiro was a surprise to everyone. A veteran, with a degree and a one-of-a-kind leadership disposition, Allura was taken aback that he would prefer a dancer's job than a CEO or business leader's position. Once he auditioned, however, and was given a chance on stage, it was a unanimous decision among crew that he belonged in the 'family.' 

Each member served the audience's tastes in their own way. Lance, with his flirtatious and fluid dance moves made him quite the Adonis. Keith's 'bad boy' routine had girls swooning and turning red. Hunk's tender and caressing words drew in the ones in need of a kind man's attention. Shiro satisfied the ladies in need of a take-charge personality and were new to the club. 

Others worked there, but those five were the main stars, the most requested, the most recommended. And because of that, they were paid the most. Plastic bags full of dollar bills went home with them every night. Tips went to Pidge, so even he didn't get off with too little. Quickly, they became close, like family, taking care of each other in and outside the club. 

Allura couldn't be more thankful that the five were so cooperative. And couldn't be more thankful that Coran stepped onto that stage that Saturday night with nothing but a speedo on.


	2. Dressing DOwn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro is forced to pose for an underwear advertisement. Thanks, Lance.
> 
> \- Prompts are welcomed.

Shiro stepped in through the employees' door. His heavy boots thumped quietly on the concrete floor as he walked by the lounge room where other dancers took breaks. The room wasn't particularly fancy - a plain gray table and brown wrap-around sofa faced a small bar, along with two doorways to the right of the entrance - one to the restrooms, the other to the dressing rooms.

Lance and one other dancer were in a discussion over something Shiro couldn't guess. Lance threw his arms up and exclaimed something in Spanish, and the other darker-skinned dancer responded with a sarcastic-sounding tone, also in Spanish. Shiro didn't know a single word in the language, so he ignored it.

On his way to work every evening, Shiro would grab the mail from his mailbox. While waiting in between breaks, he'd sift through and throw away anything unimportant, saving the rest to open and read when he got home. Pulling the mail out of the carry bag he took to work every day, he began to sort through the various white and tan envelopes. Spam, spam, random travel offer that he didn't need...

...Another modeling offer. Sighing heavily, Shiro threw it on the 'trash' pile.

"Something wrong?" Lance asked, looking at the older man. Shiro looked up.

"Nothing," he said before going back to sorting. Only three important letters. He put them into his bag and set it on the lounge table.

The employee door opened and a small, auburn-haired person shuffled in, carrying a large black light inside. Pidge's gritted teeth showed that the electronic device was heavy, too heavy. Shiro hurried over and grabbed underneath the assembly and helped guide Pidge to the table.

"Another busted light?" Lance asked as he walked over. He wasn't wearing his shirt, but did have his jeans still on. Lance was already prepared for the night, even though the dancing didn't begin until seven.

"Yes, but this one's only got a bad fuse," Pidge answered. "I tried replacing the light, but it still doesn't work. Gotta take it apart and figure out what's going on."

Pidge was like a part of the team to Shiro and the other main stars. Even though the younger member wasn't of age, and didn't perform, to them Pidge was just as close as the rest of them. At first, everyone was awkward about Pidge coming in to work in the middle of the night shifts, but after discovering their friend's habit of pulling all-nighters, the group grew used to it. Now, even though Pidge was technically supposed to work day shifts, the young one instead came in during the night. Secretly, the crew was thankful - Pidge was efficient and fast when it came to repairs and clean up.

"Isn't that like, the third one this week?" Lance asked, setting a hand on his hip. His lip curled in question.

"Yep." Pidge turned the device over and went behind the bar, pulling out a large toolkit. "I checked the wire assembly and everything's fine. But these lights are all at least ten years old. They should honestly be replaced, in my opinion."

Shiro glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until the dance shows would begin and the back of the club would open. The front was a normal bar during the day, with the back as the actual strip club itself closed off until seven. Hours lasted into five in the morning, then cleanup until six, and closed until nine. Strange hours, but Shiro didn't have to work all those hours...just the night ones.

Bless the souls who did, though.

"Who's on first shift tonight?" came a voice by the door. The group turned to watch Hunk, lugging his bag over his shoulder, step in and look at the schedule Allura had written. Shiro knew his schedule, but it was good to check, so he moved and peered over Hunk's shoulder. Yep, he wasn't on until eight.

Hunk walked to the table, moving his bag to the other end from Pidge so his stuff didn't get in the way. More than likely, Hunk had cooked all of them meals again to eat on their breaks. He'd been doing it since he first started, and everyone was thankful they didn't have to buy their own food or bring any. Shiro always felt guilty for taking the food, but Hunk always insisted he eat it. "That's what I made it for, for consumption!" the large male would say.

Keith, hair disheveled and sweaty from his evening workout, stepped in the door next. He carried a fresh towel in with him, and without a word, checked the board and then went into the dressing rooms. The quiet sound of water spraying from a shower-head followed a minute later.

Surprisingly, this was normal. When Keith first came in to work, he was always quiet, likely from exhaustion. After a good shower, he'd come out, ready for work and open to conversation. So nobody was curious when Keith was silent and didn't react.

"Looks like you're on at 2 AM, big guy," Lance said as he peered at the board. The other person he was talking to disappeared into the dressing room.

"Which one?" Shiro and Hunk asked in unison.

"That one," Lance pointed without looking at Shiro. He turned around. "You got your laundry done?"

"I do every day," Shiro said. Hunk pulled off his own shirt, then spotted the pile of discarded letters on the table. "What's that?" he asked.

"Just trash," Shiro answered. He walked over to the lockers on the other side of the room, opening up his own designated one and stuffing his bag inside.

"Hey, this one's from a modeling agency!"

Shiro whipped around and saw Lance holding up the white letter of the agency, grinning at it. "Shiro, you didn't tell us you got a modeling offer!"

"I don't accept them," he said quickly, snatching the letter back and placing it inside the stack.

"What, why? Do you know how much money you could make from that?" Lance was appalled.

"I'm not doing it for the money," Shiro said.

"Aw come on, Shiro," Lance whined. He made finger pistols at his older friend. "You can't hide all that sexiness forever. You gotta show it to the world!"

"I'm showing it to groups of strange women every night," the veteran corrected. "I'm doing this because it's better than sitting at a desk job forever."

"Oh, right."

Shiro dumped the letters into the trash bin. Lance put his hands on his hips.

"Say, how many of those do you get? How often?" he asked curiously.

"Three this month," Shiro answered flatly.

"Three this MONTH!?" Lance perked in surprise. "That's like, three more than I get!"

"If you want to call them, do it," the older one said sternly. "I'll give you their numbers. You can audition. But I'm not interested."

"Alright, alright."

Shiro closed his locker then walked to the dressing rooms. "I'm going to get ready," he said. "Don't go through my mail again, Lance. Leave it."

**\---------------------------------**

The instant Lance came in from his first hour on the side stages and figured out Shiro was out of sight, he immediately raced over to the trash can and grabbed the letters. He tossed each one to the floor until he saw the agency's letter, then beamed.

"Didn't Shiro tell you not to do that?" Hunk said, coming out from the dressing room in his 'costume.' It was the one he wore when he first began the job - firefighter trousers with the straps over his chest and shoulders. He was the only one who could fit them, and he fit them well.

"Aw come on, Hunk, I'm just reading it," Lance shrugged. "Besides, he threw it away, it's not like he wants it."

"Isn't that illegal to open someone's else's mail?" Keith said as he stepped in. He'd shared the hour with Lance and had just come in to witness Lance tear the letter open from the side.

"Guys, guys, don't woorrryyy," Lance assured them. "I'm going to throw it away when I'm done, I promise. I just wanna see what the deal is."

As Lance began to skim the letter, his eyes slowly widened. A sneering grin spread across his face.

"Uh oh," Hunk said. "I know that look. I don't like that look."

"What're you looking at?" Pidge cut in, stepping away from the light fixture and peering over Lance's shoulder to read the letter.

"Shiro got a modeling offer," Lance explained. How did Pidge not catch the entire conversation the two had exchanged earlier? Must've not been paying attention. "And it's for underwear."

"Wow," Pidge grunted. "Underwear. So impressive."

"I can't believe this," Lance said. "Shiro, in an underwear ad? I don't know if I can even imagine it."

"I wouldn't try to," Pidge said and walked back to the light.

Too late. Pidge's imagination traveled off. On a page in a magazine, Shiro was bare save for a tight pair of briefs, body facing towards the reader and head tilted to the left. His robotic hand gripped at his tousled hair, eyes closed and jaw loose with brows furrowed just slightly. His left hand stroked down his scarred abs, the high lighting outlining every muscle and curve. The color was almost completely absent, giving his hair and skin strong contrast and intensifying the shaping over his abdomen--

"Lance," Pidge said, waving a hand over the other's face. "Lance, you're red."

Lance shook his head violently. "Why did I think of that? That was so wrong."

"You thought of Shiro in his underwear, didn't you," Pidge said, crossing arms.

"It was an accident!" Lance defended. He looked back at the letter in his hands. "Shiro shouldn't turn this stuff down. He'd be doing the world a disservice!"

"Shiro doesn't do it because he flaunts it," Pidge explained. "That's why he throws them away. He's not interested."

"Eh, too bad," Lance said as he walked to the lockers. He opened his - which was never locked - and pulled out his phone from his pants pocket.

"You shouldn't do that," Pidge warned.

"Uh, yeah, this doesn't seem like a good idea, Lance," Hunk followed.

"Pffuh, come on," he scoffed. "If Shiro really didn't want to do it, he wouldn't show up. Besides, this is part of the job, remember? We had to model for the website and the calendars. Might as well model for other things, too."

"We had to do that for merchandise. This isn't merchandise," Keith butted in.

"Not ours," Lance said as he typed in the agency's number. "But I'm willing to bet their sales will skyrocket when they get him in the spotlight."

The man raised his phone to his ear. The call rang, then went to voicemail. Lance tried to lower his voice, with comical (and very inaccurate) results.. "Oh, hey, this is Shiro! I just wanted to let you know I accept the offer, and I'll be ready any time. I'm borrowing my friend's phone, since I'm at work, but my number is..."

Pidge, Hunk and Keith watched in mixed shock and disbelief as Lance read out Shiro's number, then hung up and placed his phone back in his locker. The smug grin on his face said everything.

"He's going to kick your butt when he finds out," Hunk told Lance.

"Ah, he won't find out until tomorrow," Lance shrugged. He tossed the letter back into the trash, then faced the others. "Don't tell him, okay? Think of it like giving him an opportunity to get out and be famous."

"Not everyone thinks like you do, Lance," Hunk grumbled.

**\------------------------------**

6 AM had just rolled in, and Shiro was grabbing his bag when his cell phone went off. A phone call, this early in the morning?

He pulled it out. An unknown phone number. He wondered who it was. Hopefully not another telemarketer. His thumb pressed the "Accept" button and he placed it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Yes, is this Shiro?"

Shiro answered. "That is me."

"Hey, Shiro! I heard your voice mail from last night. I'm glad you decided to accept our modeling offer! What's the best time for you to come by?"

"Wait," Shiro stopped in his tracks. "Modeling offer? I never accepted a modeling offer."

"I-I'm sorry, but the voicemail I got said you did."

"But I-..." The black-haired male slowly turned around, black irises pinning down the younger and shorter culprit. Lance gulped, giving a sheepish smile.

"Hello...?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Shiro answered. If people hadn't been watching him, he would have sounded chipper. But the facial expression he was giving Lance looked more like intent to strangle. "I'm free this Friday, from nine to four."

"Excellent!"

Lance gave himself a mental fist pump.

The call went on for a few more seconds before Shiro hung up. He started towards Lance.

"Hey, hey!" Lance raised his hands. "Come on, it's a job opportunity!"

"Lance, I told you not to look through my mail," Shiro said sternly. "Why did you do it anyways?"

"Why did you agree to do it?"

_"LANCE."_

"I only wanted you to have a good time!" Lance admitted. "I know you don't do this stuff for money or fame, but think about it! You love what you do here, why not do it on the side too, you know, just for the heck of it?"

Shiro paused. "I accepted because I don't know what to expect. I didn't want to be rude. But I trusted you, Lance. Don't do that again."

"Sorry, Shiro..."

**\------------------------------**

Much to Shiro's surprise, he really did have fun. The crew was enthusiastic to meet him, and welcomed suggestions for poses of his own. While at first it was awkward, posing in front of cameras in only his underwear, he had to remind himself he'd worn less for the calendar, with just a military jacket around his waist to cover his masculinity. This, somehow, felt different. After some excellent humor and time, the man didn't mind posing - in fact he quite enjoyed the shots the photographer showed him after the photo shoot.

The next month, in a magazine Allura had pulled off the shelves, Lance flipped through and found the full-page photo of Shiro posing with only his briefs, and grinned.

"Told you," he whispered to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt ideas for chapters are welcome.


End file.
